Loves Lost Pain
by XgothicnerdX
Summary: On a September night, England lost the person he cared the most about, A year later, the pain is still raw and every memory cuts deeper than the last, his sanity starting to be questioned by his closest remaining friends. Has he really lost his mind? France isn't about to believe it. FrUK, Spanmano, GerIta, some PruCan.
1. September

The cold September night had ended as they always did. "You're such a querroulous stupid boy!" England crossed his arms, waiting for his words to sink in. "Excuse me for trying to do something nice for ya!"The American screamed, his eyes shining brightly with fury. They glared at each other for a bit, neither wanting to back down and say the other was right. "Don't you realize how bad your economy has gotten?! You can't coninue spending money recklessly like this! Don't act like it's not wretched!" America's jaw clenched and he turned angrily, grabbing his keys from the counter top and stomping to the door. "You know what, fuck you! I don't have to listen to this!" Pulling the door open violently, he walked down the hall without looking back, letting the door slam between them.


	2. Beginnings

He sat up in bed suddenly, his hand coming down hard on the alarm, silencing the infernal ringing that seemed to reverberate still through his hazy mind. Looking at the clock, England sighed and shook his head, as if trying to clear it. Reaching for his glasses, his hand brushed against a photo, which he caught as it fluttered to the ground. Holding the same 8'x11' up to the light streaming in through the window, he narrowed his eyes to make it out. _He_ stared back at him, forever stuck in the moment. His golden blonde hair was windswept, his brilliant Caribbean blue eyes sparkling brightly with excitement. Although the small British man had once thought of this picture as distasteful and a failure, he now saw the charm in the unexpectedness of it. It seemed to capture the young American's very essence.

Getting out of bed, he set the picture down in its designated space, his heart clenching. Arthur stumbled into the living room of the small one bedroom apartment he had bought after the accident, switching on the television to fill the silence. Continuing his slow trudge, he stopped in the kitchen, setting a kettle of tea on the fire. "Today marks the one year anniversary of America's hero, Alfred F Jones, who died tragically in the collapse of the San Francisco Bridge. Managing to save the people stranded, the bridge fell before anyone could get to the young man, his body later washing up on the shore. A ceremony will be held..." He felt his knees buckle and before he knew it his cheek was against the cool tile of the kitchen floor. He sensed more than felt the tears running down his cheeks, his hand gripping the shirt over his heart tightly. "Oh god Alfred..."


	3. Family

The kettle whistled, breaking his stupor. He struggled to his feet, his vision still blurred by tears as he made his way across the kitchen to the balcony. Falling against the railing, he looked down at the empty cobbled streets below. _Another cloudy day..._ He carefully lifted a leg over, the other following so he was standing on the small ledge between the railing and edge. He had thought about this many times before, once actually holding a foot out. Now he felt he could do it. _Want to do it_, he corrected himself, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he shut his eyes. Him, the Great British Empire, meeting his death from a simple fall. He smiled slightly at the audacity of the thought as his hands slipped from the railing. "England!"

He felt arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him against the railing roughly. He coughed and gasped at the sudden pain. "M-Mathew?! What are you doing here..." Arthur didn't have the strength to fight as he was pulled back over the railing and laid on the ground. "M-Maple are you hurt? W-What happened eh?!" I looked up into the face of my little brother, a mirror image of Alfred besides the violet eyes and longer, softer blonde hair. "Angleterre Que vouliez-vous faire?...{England, what did you do?}" He shook his head and looked inside the apartment. "Papa! I found him!" England couldn't help but groan weakly as the Canadian was replaced with his archenemy. England couldn't help but be surprised by the worry clear in beardy's eyes. "Angleterre, what were you trying to accomplish?" He looked away and watched as Canada dealt with the tea, making it the way only he could ever seem to. _Not even Alfred could make it..._ "England! Look at me! What were you planning on doing?!" Arthur sat up, his messy blond hair covering his eyes. "France, what are you doing here? And with Matthew?" Canada turned around, his eyes misted with tears. "You're not the only one hurting today England." Shame washed over him, filling the empty void. _He was his brother too..._ "Today is 'ard on all of us. We should spend it together. 'e would've wanted zhat no?" Arthur couldn't help but notice how much softer Francis' voice had become. And he couldn't stand it.

"Why are you so calm? Or little brother is dead! He's not coming to another meeting! He's not going to be there to be an idiot! He can't... He can't say he's a hero anymore... And it's all my fault..." He dropped his face into his hands, sobbing. France wrapped his arms around him, closing his eyes tightly. "Ce n'est pas votre faute{It's not your fault}... 'ow could anyone 'ave known..." Matthew knelt beside them, sobbing as he hugged them both.


	4. Alone

England sat in the window seat, looking at the coffee that had become cold hours ago. After his breakdown, France and Matthew insisted on staying with him. The small British man smiles slightly at the thought that such simple words would get them to leave.

_"We're not leaving until we're sure you're fine eh?" Canada set yet another plate of pancakes on the table in front of him. "Angleterre, nous restons avec vous.{England, we're with you}" Arthur sighed, staring glumly at the plate in front of him. "I don't want to take up your time..." France smiled slightly. "You are not. We 'ad our schedules cleared for today. We came to spend zhe the day with you."Arthur sighed, poking the lumpy mess in front of him weakly, his eyes downcast. "Why don't we all go visit 'im-" They both jumped as a pan clattered loudly to the floor, swerving around to see Canada standing next to the sink, his hands clutching the edge tightly, his knuckles white as his shoulders tensed. Francis stood up quickly, gently setting a hand on his shoulder. "Mon petit Mat-" They both moved quickly as their little brother collapsed, gathering him into their arms as he was overtaken with sobs, his glasses slipping from his face and falling to the fall almost soundlessly. "A-Al... W-Why h-him?!" England felt himself slipping away, watching from a third person view as they stood, still holding each other close. He continued to watch as France decided to take Matthew home. Watched as they walked out. He knew rather than felt himself walk out to the balcony and watch them leave in the navy blue car that had belonged to Alfred. Alfred...  
_

England glanced at the road below and listened to the honking and screeching. It all seemed so far away... He hardly spared the land-line a glance as it rang, his mood matching the normal overcast weather. He stiffened, waiting for the recording. "'Sup! This is grumpy brows home phone. If he didn't answer it's most likely cause he's avoiding ya-" "Alfred! What the bloody hell are you doing?!" "Nothin'! You need somethin' to tell people you're antisocial!" "Why you-" The recording ended with Alfred's bright and happy laughter. "England? Shit, Ich don't know if this is the right number... I got it from Feli... Anyways! I called to ask if you vere coming to the ceremony today? Ich offered to give you a ride... Uh yeah, if you hear this, get back to me..." A deep sigh could be heard on the other end. "Look, Ich know you're probably there and I vant to tell you something. It's not your fault. I'll admit, Al could... get reckless sometimes..." The Prussian stopped for a moment, his breathing heavy. "No one blames you. I'll bet Al doesn't either... Don't let him see you like this. I'll bet he's up there making fun of you right now. Are you going to let him do that? I-" He cut himself off, a sob coming from the other side. "Ich... Just call me back.. I'm sorry..." The recording ended, the room once again falling silent. Empty.

He turned to the window again, his own face reflected back at him. His once emerald green eyes had lost their radiance, a now faded forest green. His skin looked pale and washed out, his mouth set in a grim line. He pressed his shaking fingers against the foggy glass, watching himself be obscured by a smokey haze.

He knew what the other nations thought. They looked at him as fragile. Weak. Broken. The last word made his eye twitch. Broken. _Perfect term_ he thought sarcastically, swiping a hand across the window, pressing his forehead to it and closing his eyes. Why had so many people been taken from him? Why did he have to endure all this pain? Why was he so alone? _I'll always be alone. It seems to be my fate..._ He let a tear escape, his hand curling into a fist against the now white window, his breath blocking out the rest of the world.


	5. World Conference 1

They sat at the conference table, watching China's presentation on overpopulation. Again. The mood seemed too serious. By now, America would've jumped in with claims such as "it's your own fault dude! Even _we_ haven't experienced that!" At which point England would comment and their usual bickering would start, France eventually jumping in. Today, the English man sat quietly, sickly looking. Dark circles took residence under his dull green eyes. His hair looked greasy and messy, his suit wrinkled and stained. France wasn't much different. The hair he was so proud of hung in clumps, his bright aura turned dark. Canada sat next to him today, looking more lost and lonely to anyone who noticed him. The Prussian hasn't had much luck convincing him to stay home. "I miss Alfred."

Everyone froze, looking at the Italian. His eyes were closed as always, but tears streamed down his cheeks. His curl twitched, hanging low. He looked into his lap, shaking. Germany reached over and laid a hand on his shoulder, his usual tense expression filled with what is probably the closest to sadness he's come to in years. Feli turned into a sobbing mess, clinging to the German. The rest of the room turned to the three sitting side by side.

Canada stood, holding his bear close and walked out of the room without a word. Hong Kong and Cuba followed close behind. "France... Can we go?" Everyone looked down as England looked up, his eyes pleading and full of tears. "Of course mon amour." The two walked out quietly, the Brit leaning against Francis.

"Ragazzo stupido!" The tension remained as Lovino scowled at his brother, his arms crossed.  
"Don't yell at him! It wasn't his fault!"  
"The bastard should know when to keep his mouth shut!"  
"Romano calm down! Ich thought you didn't like America!"  
"I rearry think we should stop arguing-"  
"Look at Japan! Is he crying?"  
"What? I'm not crying!"  
"Ve~? Aw I'm sorry Japan! I didn't mean to make you cry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"  
"Itary-kun, prease stop hugging me."  
"Everyone shut up aru! This isn't going to help anything-"  
"When did you decide you cared enough to jump in?!"  
"SHUT UP! EVERYONE SIT DOWN AND SHUT YOUR MOUTHS!"

Everyone froze, looking at the fuming German. This time, it seemed worse than his usual anger. "Ich know everyone misses Alfred zomeway or another, but he isn't coming back. We must accept zhis if anyone vants to move on." He looked down, his usually perfectly slicked back hair disheveled. "He... He died as vhat he alvays said he was. A hero. Knowing he saved all those people on zhat bridge should be enough for you all. He... He vould vant us all to remember him as that. Or how he always seemed to be smiling, even when we could all see how sick he was getting..." He looked down a moment, seemingly composing himself. "I... I'm going to miss him da-ze..." South Korea stood up, his curl twitching as he sniffed, wiping at his nose quickly. "How stupid... Dying because of a little water... He could swim... faster than anyone I know..." No one spoke as he continued to rant before he threw a chair on the table. "Why?! H-He was doing great things! Why did he have to die?! It's not fair!" China stood up and grabbed the younger nation by the shoulders, pulling him into a hug. "Yong Soo!" Yet again, everyone was silent as the Korean cried into the older nations shoulder, doing exactly what most of them felt like doing themselves. Most.


	6. Engwand!

The two sat in the car, absolute silence between them. The red-eyed Brit stared out the window, the hazy city passing by in an indescribable blur. France stared at the road, his hands clenched on the wheel as he turned into a deserted parks' parking lot. "Francis, what are we..." His voice trailed off as he looked around, his mind going back in time. "Zhis is where we 'ad our first family dinner, remember? Alfred didn't believe me when I said you 'ad 'orrible cooking and wanted you to cook anyways. Matthew was smart enough to leave zhe house while Alfred sat zhere, staring at the glob on 'is plate before 'e looked at you and ate it. I'll always remember 'is face twisting up in disgust and surprise before 'e swallowed and looked at you with 'is beautiful blue eyes and said-"  
"'that was really good Engwand. Can I have more?  
Of course my boy, of course..."  
"And I said to 'im 'Alfred, are you okay?' and 'is answer, do you remember it?"  
"Of course. 'Course! I just wanted to see... Engwand's smile..." His eyes began to shine with tears.  
France nodded. "Do you remember 'ow many plates 'e had of whatever it was suppose to be?"  
"Four..."  
He nodded again. "And what did 'e say after every plate?"  
"That was good Engwand, can I have more?"  
"What did 'e say every time I told 'im to stop before 'e got sick?"  
"'I just want Engwand to smile...'"  
They turned and stared at the spot where a house once stood, dozed down to make a park for the children. Dark clouds had surprised them by covering the sky, large drops of water hitting the windshield. "France-" The other shook his head, still staring at the park. "Non mon amour, just enjoy this for a moment. Let go of zhe sadness and remember what 'appened 'ere." England sighed softly and turned back to the park, letting himself fall into a wonderland of memories, one standing out in particular.

_"Engwand! Engwand!" He rolled his eyes, turning to the small boy running toward him. "England America. What is it?" The child smiled brightly, his eyes sparkling as he held open his hands to reveal a blue and black butterfly sitting in his palms. "Isn't it pretty?" The older man smiled warmly, kneeling down in front of him. "You shouldn't trap something so beautiful America. It deserves to be free and to spread it's beauty." America pouted, looking at the insect still resting on his palm. "But-" "No buts. Go put it back okay?" He nodded and ran off again, leaving England to turn back to the French man with a scowl as he seen the amused smirk on the others face. "'ow sweet. The Great Britain smiling so gently at such a small child. It is 'ard to comprehend!" "Oh shut up shit beard. What are you doing here anyways?" "I came to visit mon petit Mattie." The child of topic ran up and into France's arms as he knelt down. The blonde child opened his brilliant violet eyes and smiled happily at the French man, snuggling into him. "Papa! You're back!" Francis chuckled, his smile mirroring the Brit's as he held the tiny nation in his arms gently. "Of course mon amour. 'ow could I ever leave someone as cute as you behind? I missed you so." England turned away, letting them have their moment as he walked off to find a pouting Alfred in the bushes, the butterfly still sitting on his hand. "I thought I told you to let it go-" "I tried! But it just came back! I told it to leave or I would get in trouble and you would be mad at me..." He turned and looked at him with unshed tears making his eyes glisten. England sighed and scooped him into his arms, holding him close. "You're such a silly boy... I could never be mad at you... I love you." The little boy sniffled, snuggling into his father. "I wuv you too Engwand." _

England sniffed and wiped at his eyes, a slight smile on his face. "You're good shit beard... Thank you." France chuckled softly as he pulled out. "There's one other place I want to show you."


End file.
